In the midst
by yukiaoi
Summary: A series of very short unrelated dribbles, all written in a spontaneous drive. Un-betaed. All chara
1. Chapter 1 Dante, Nero

"Will we meet again?"

Maybe. And we had met before. Bet you don't remember a thing do you?

You asked me the very same question, just that you were still a real kid back then.

So, it has something to do with that arm of yours, huh? But I'm guessing it'd probably end up badly if I keep on sticking my nose further into this business. You and your princess, happily ever after. Sounds good enough for me. Might as well remain the passerby and move on out of the stage.

It's all yours from now on, kid. Take care.


	2. Chapter 2 Nero, Dante, Trish

Nero never thought of the situation put before him being a possibility in his entire life.

Here it is, Dante, the descendent of the Legardary Dark Knight Sparda, shedding tears and his knees on the floor. Before Trish's motionless body. Cold. Rid of colors.

It was never expected, that Trish's life would end like this. She was a devil, a full one at that, and she was dead.

All articifical creations have their limits, is it. Nero mused silently. He could not bear Dante's broken form, how his fingers close between him and Trish's arm, how the mob of silver hair seemed to disappear in golden strands, how sharp the contrast of colors between life and death screamed.

How sorrow twisted - furrowed the older man's features that Nero could not recall knowing this man he had come to know for over a decade. He gazed at his own arm, would he be the next to kiss death? The unnatural existence that deserved to be exiled?

Looking back from his arm to the battered senior, Nero decided to focus on that later. He had the death of a friend to take care of and an old man who needed a shoulder, no matter he himself wanted or not.

Nero found himself could not just walk away. 


	3. Chapter 3 Lady, Dante

There was too much sorrow between them. Too much pity involved. Love between them was forever out of the question.

But Lady was satisfied. She would keep her own pace when he do the same, drop by occasionally to squeeze his pockets and find no money but pizza grease there, throw jobs she cannot handle in his face, and watch him eat strawberry sundae. Then, without themselves knowing, she would grow old and die, and she wants him to be the one burying her dead body.

It was as if an invisible line was drawn between them. They were not afraid to cross but they just would not. Because it was a game they had to play, because they knew each other much more than any other did. They could not avoid seeing their own past when looking at each other - and that would be too much to bear.

They were not running away. They simply... kept distance.

Lady liked how she and Dante's paths seperate and intertwine at the same time.

Lady could not ask for more.

She would not.


	4. Chapter 4 Dante, Nero

Lightly holding up the Devil Bringer, he caressed the hard knuckles with his soft lips.

From a mere second he could smell the ghost of someone he knew a long time ago, but when he came back to his senses, the palm in his own only gave off a weak and final orange glow before dying down back to a dim neon blue in the dark room.

Moonlight shone from outside the window, casting shadows darker than the evening on Nero's calm features.

He kissed the scarlet shells again, lingering there for a moment,"sweet dreams."

He could not decide to whom he kissed good night. 


	5. Chapter 5 Vergil, Dante

There are just things you cannot go long without. Like Dante with pizza. Like Lady with gunpower. Like Nero with Redqueen. Like Ebony with Ivory.

Like Vergil with Dante.

After parting with Lucia, Dante set foot on the soil of the Demon World. The speed of the motorcycle flared up hot sand of the forbidden land. He sped on, regarding nothing but his destination.

Maybe it was too long before the intervals of their meetings, Dante failed to notice the faint aura emitted from a long distance away. Blue, icy, confused. Everything that says Vergil.

After a decades of time passed by, what was remained of him was nothing Vergil-representing anymore. Sapphire shards shimmered under the elusive and enigmatic light source from above. All these years he wandered without a sole purpose, all that he held on to keep himself from fading away was the single will that the reason behind vanished along with his consciousness after his physical form demolished.

He drifted on, catching the movements of the sand, any trace of his brother.

Dan...te 


	6. Chapter 6 Vergil, Dante

Vergil had never been the pizza type. But with one that is as your brother and the reluctance to cook, there was not really any other choice.

Dante loves to try on new things. One can see that through his choices of assorted toppings. One day it would be Tuna, another Hawaiian Delight. When there was this once that he grimaced at the smell of the soy sauce on his Japanese Teriyaki, he settled for Meat Lover.

Well, for a month or so at least. If Vergil recalled correctly.

So he was not expecting Dante to still be savoring over a slice of Meat Lover, with extra pineapple and mushroom, when he returned to Devil May Cry after his month-long mission.

"That's a change," he casually put down Yamato on the couch and headed to the desk, where the remnants of poutry and vegetables on pastry was placed and where Dante was licking his fingertips in his seat. Apalling of a choice for dinner as it was, he was too hungry to let that concern him.

Dante shrugged half-heartedly, picking up a random magazine with his greasy fingers, much to Vergil's dismay, and started looking but not reading. "What is?"

Scorning slightly at the sight (of the pizza and of Dante's unhygienic act), he took a slice and bit a mouthful. "No new flavors at the parlour?"

His brother rose an eyebrow at this, "your point being?"

Sighing in defeat, Vergil regretted ever starting it in the first place. "Never mind." He proceeded to walk away with the piece of cold cheese and meat that was his dinner, and was forced to a halt when his hand was held.

"I don't get tired of delicious things easily," the magazine was no longer in his hands. It had never served its rightful purpose in the first place. "Especially when they taste really, really good." And his fingers started wandering off up Vergil's arm.

Vergil paused at his ministration on his dinner, then shook off the other's hold, ceasing him from reaching places he was not supposed to be reaching... yet.

"I have no intention of getting oil and your germs all over my garments," with long strides, he got to the couch and sat down. "Get yourself cleaned while I finish up my dinner." Another bite. "Then we'll resume the topic on... taste."

Dante needed not to be told twice. He skipped halfway up the stairs, "haven't I told you yet, Verge?"

Vergil turned to his brother and decided to keep quiet on the nickname for once. He was in a good mood, afterall.

"I love it when you're all spicy."

With that Dante dashed up on his remaining journey to the bathroom with a grin and an annoying chuckle, merely missing a loosely aimed summoned sword to the head.


	7. Chapter 7 Dante, Nero

Stop gazing at me like you're looking for something beyond me.  
I'm not him, not the one you're longing for. So let go of me. I don't care if you're after a replacement, I don't fucking care. But you won't find what you want in me. I'm totally different and I'm not your doll.

Then why're you still here?

Not for you and that's all you need to know.  
You know nothing.  
You don't know how it feels to be accepted, only because you're something that's not what you see yourself as.  
So I'm telling you this now. I'll never be the one you're after.  
Let me go.

I can never refrain you from leaving and you know that.  
You're lying to yourself.  
Are you afraid?

Of what?

That you're in love. With me.  
That I'm in love with you too.

Shut up.

And that's just some kind of illusion, because you think I think you're him. Geez, kid.

Shut up!

You're the one to shut the hell up.  
What do you think I am?  
You're the one who know nothing.  
I see you as you are.  
You're Nero, the damn kid who's always a pain in the ass.  
Who throw up tantrums worse than any women would ever to me.  
The one who's not as good as me in bed but always fights hard to be top.  
The one who gives me back rubs in showers and don't know how cute he looks.  
The one who pick all the peppers out of his pizza.  
The one who I can't get out of my mind for a minute.  
The one I... I can't think of what else to say anymore. Damn, kid. Stop this non-sense now.  
You're nothing like him.  
And that shouldn't be the point in the first place.

Just... shut up.

Now what? Damn, after all this shit you're still...

I'm hungry. Get me something to eat. 


	8. Chapter 8 Dante, Nero

Written within 5 minutes on a random 5 minutes shared by Dante and Nero. PWP. I needed sugar!

===

"Hey, Nero? We have five minutes."

"And?"

"What do you think we should do?"

"Uh, wait?"

"But that'd be such a waste..."

"... So what do you have in mind, may I ask?"

"There's so much we can do, such as..."

"Don't you dare coming up with funny ideas."

"Com'on, give it a chance?"

"No."

"Nero..."

"YOU're the older one here. Stop whining, it's disgusting."

"A kiss will do, please?"

"NO."

"Nero..."

"A No means a NO."

"Then how about this?"

"?!"

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"There, a hug doesn't hurt now does it."

"... Moron."

"Yours only."

"Shut up."

"Too bad two whole minutes were wasted though, or else..."

"Shut up already!" 


	9. Chapter 9 Dante, Nero

Nero is sick.

Green peppers, Onions, cheese and salami. What else did he need? Oh yes, the dough, of course.

Pouring out the white powder, he added water into the bowl and proceed to mix the content. Glutton started to kick in and the overly moist substance began to stick to his fingers - and the hard shells of his Devil Bringer was definitely not helping.

He took the dough out of the bowl, smacking it on the table with unnecessary force. He sighed heavily at how tedious the task was.

He must be sick.

The next would be the toppings. The grater felt too small in his Devil Bringer and he had to be careful not to squeeze too hard on the cheese. There was once he did and got all of it slipped through his fingers...

Then he suddenly realized he needed to put tomato sauce on the dough before anything else.

Cursing under his breath, he walked over to the fridge and found no tomato sauce. He cursed again, this time a lot louder, then decided he would have to put up with tomato juice. Maybe if he mix it with some cornstarch... Wait, did he switch on the oven yet?

He is definitely sick.

Two hours later, he finally found himself staring at a pizza, one he went through a war to finish. He wiped away the sweat that he did not realize forming, when the front door was kicked open.

"What do we have here, a treat?" The man in red strode through the living room, stopping before him... and the steaming piece of magnificent creation.

Nero shrugged, "yeah, a treat. For the lazy ass who won't make his own dinner."

Then the man smiled at him, the way he always did when he was truly happy and grateful. The same smile he always saw whenever he was around, as if he was happy with him just being there. The way his gray eyes flicker under the dim kitchen light made him stared.

"Thanks, kid. Love you too."

Nero scratched the bridge of his nose, a little bit harder than usual and looked away.

He is really, really sick.

He refuses to put a name to this sickness, because it is... too damn embarrassing. 


End file.
